Picturing Different

by Nikki Kwiatkowski

  Tripp watched Ashlyn’s jaw tighten, no doubt finding the girl’s comment annoying.

  Ashlyn looked up only to meet Tripp’s serious, and oddly unemotional, face staring back at her. If she expected him to give her a hard time or tease her, she was pleasantly surprised.

  “Despite them not being from the sender you wanted, they really are gorgeous. I’m sure they’ll make for some great pictures.”

  Tripp turned to leave, but his last comment rattled Ashlyn. “Wait!”

  He stopped and only turned halfway. The classroom was dwindling down and at this rate, they’d both probably be late to their next class.

  “Who told you I take pictures?”

  Tripp raised a brow and shook his head. “First of all, that comment alone tells me,” he chuckled. “Secondly…” He pointed to her oversized shoulder bag with her camera inside. When she eyed him suspiciously, “Relax. I was just making an observation. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’m not secretly digging up information on you.”

  Ashlyn reddened with embarrassment and looked away. “Sorry. I’m just…Today is just,” she started.

  “I get it,” Tripp said softly. “Anyway, have a great weekend.”

  Just like that, he left her. He didn’t give her any grief or tease her that her own stupid boyfriend couldn’t send her anything for Valentine’s Day. He just calmly strolled out of the classroom.

  Ashlyn looked down at the flowers as she grabbed them and hurried to her next class. They really were exquisite. Who cares that they weren’t from Eric? They were still hers, and Tripp was right about one thing; they really would make for some great pictures.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Ashlyn nearly bolted off the sofa when she heard the front door open.

  “Mom,” she gasped with complete shock. It was only 5:30. “What are you doing home so early?”

  Poppy Jennings worked as a therapist, specializing in marital and family counseling. She split her time between Raymere Grove and the big city. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were her days where she had to drive the hour long or better drive into the city. Sometimes both of her parents shared the ride those days, as Ashlyn’s father, Daniel, worked for a law firm there.

  “Oh, my last client of the day emailed the office early this morning that they wouldn’t be able to make it. Your dad still won’t be home until 7 or so. I was hoping that I could make a lovely dinner.”

  Ashlyn just now noticed the grocery bags in her mother’s arms. “Do you need some help,” she quickly asked.

  Her mother eyed her suspiciously as she made her way to the kitchen. It wasn’t even 6 on a Friday night, and Ashlyn was already in a pair of sweats watching television.

  “You don’t have a date tonight,” Poppy asked with great skepticism.

  “No. Eric already had plans with some friends, and I didn’t feel like joining them.” She left out the fact that Eric never even bothered to invite her along in the first place.

  Her mother didn’t even respond with a word, just a grumble of irritation. Needless to say, her parents weren’t overly fond of Eric, at least not anymore. Up until the summer before, he was great. Then he went with his cousins for summer break in California, and he seemed to change.

  “Oh my,” her mother gasped when she saw the bouquet of flowers on the table.

  “Ugh. Yes. Thanks, mom,” Ashlyn grumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” Poppy laughed. “What?”

  “You and dad did not need to send something, especially something so over the top. I mean,” she began to ramble. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re absolutely gorgeous, but everyone thought they were from Eric, and–”

  “Oh, sweetie,” her mother interrupted, shaking her head. She continued to unpack items from the bags. Ashlyn was thankful that she wasn’t going out when she saw the steaks and shrimp. “You got so mad at your father and I when we did that your eighth-grade year.”

  “Wait. You didn’t?”

  “No,” Poppy continued to chuckle. “You were so embarrassed then.”

  Knots formed in Ashlyn’s stomach and her eyes drifted back to the curious bouquet on the table. If it wasn’t Eric, or her parents…Maybe Emory, June, and Kayla? Maybe they expected that Eric wouldn’t do anything. Emory did mention that he wouldn’t be there on Valentine’s.

  A group text and ten minutes later confirmed that it wasn’t them.

  Emory: We love you and all, but that looks like $200 or better. No way.

  Kayla: Personally, I would have gotten you chocolate if anything.

  June: Sorry. I’m with Emory!

  Ashlyn knew just how to solve the mystery. She wasn’t in newspaper for nothing. The one thing she found oddly intriguing about the class: research and investigative journalism.

  Once she got to her room, she flipped the card over and dialed the florist’s number. It rang several times before a soft and exhausted voice answered the phone.

  “Hi. Um…I received one of your arrangements today–”

  “Did you order red roses instead of pink? I’m so sorry,” the woman began apologizing. “We ran out at the last minute. I can offer you a discount for any future–”

  Ashlyn quickly interrupted the woman’s rant. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I got an arrangement at school today, and the card was blank. I know it’s probably not in your policy, but I’d really like to know who sent it.”

  There was a moment of silence. “What’s your name?”

  “Ashlyn Jennings.”

  “Oh,” the lady gasped. “That one I remember. Quite an odd request for Valentine’s.”

  “Could you tell me who ordered it,” Ashlyn asked with hope.

  The sigh on the other end already told her before any words. “I’m sorry.” Ashlyn figured. Her mom worked all the time with people in extramarital affairs. Imagine if a spouse could find out how his wife got a mysterious bouquet of flowers. “I mean, I would,” the woman continued. “You’re just a kid after all, but that was a specific request on the sender’s part.”

  The called ended with Ashlyn left even more intrigued, and strangely, more frustrated. Why would someone send something so beautiful and not take credit for it?

  Chapter 5

  When Ashlyn returned to the field after lunch, she was thankful for the dry breeze and rather warm sunlight. She’d definitely be able to get the final touches on before the first game in a few days.

  It wasn’t the ideal way to spend an entire Saturday, but she did enjoy painting. Though the air was still a little chilly, the sunlight made up for it, and she found that she felt more at peace than she had in a long time.

  She was always rather artistic, but after her freshman year, she switched from so many art classes to newspaper. Newspaper was the closest thing that the school had to photography. In the end she was torn about the future. She loved to paint, and she knew she was good at it, but something about a camera, and capturing things in a different way, felt like a calling as well.

  Tripp was mildly out of breath when he approached the field. He thought she would have heard him, but the closer he got, he realized that she had earbuds in, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of music she listened to, if their tastes were similar, and if not, would it be something he’d like.

  Rather than make his presence known, he hung back, getting some air, so he didn’t look out of shape, despite that he was far from it. He remembered her telling her friends at lunch how she’d be spending her Saturday. It wasn’t a coincidence that he jogged in the direction of the school. He just didn’t think of what he’d do or say if he saw her.

  His heart continued to race, long after he thought he had cooled down from his run. He hesitantly stepped closer in her direction until he was just close enough to tap her on the shoulder.

  Ashlyn jumped in shock from the contact and spun around with flailing arms.

  Tripp flew back, his black t-shirt now covered with a light blue splatter.

  Ashlyn yanked out her earbuds. �
��What the hell are you doing,” she screamed. She grabbed her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  Tripp glanced down at his shirt and pulled it from his body in Ashlyn’s direction.

  “That’s your own fault,” she continued to scream.

  “Sorry. I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear me,” he lied.

  “Of course I didn’t hear you!”

  “Anyway, hi,” he began again, more awkwardly.

  “Hi?! Seriously?!”

  He took a deep breath and stepped to the side, pretending to admire her work. “I went for a jog and happened to see you working.”

  Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m a little busy. If you don’t mind–”

  “Want some help,” Tripp quickly offered. He could tell his question surprised Ashlyn, as her eyes grew twice their size.

  Ashlyn stumbled for words. “Why would…I…No,” she finally managed. “No, thank you.”

  He picked up one of the brushes and twirled it around. “It’ll go much faster. I’ll do the easy stuff.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon.”

  He shrugged and turned back to the sign.

  Ashlyn didn’t know how to get rid of him. She needed to get rid of him. She still had a couple hours’ worth of work and he would only serve as a distraction, a distraction in the sense that she’d have to waste her time explaining and telling him what to do, not that she found him distracting in the way half the girls at school did.

  Tripp noticed that she had the lettering stenciled out. “What color do you want the letters?”

  He had to be kidding. “First of all, no. You have to have a very steady hand for that,” she began, reaching for his brush, only for him to hold it up in the air above his head, teasing her like a child.

  “How do you know that I don’t have a steady hand?” Ashlyn ignored him and stepped forward, reaching for the brush above his head one more time. It was no use. He was easily half a foot taller than her, and with much longer arms. When she finally gave up, “And secondly?”

  “Secondly,” she began with a great amount of irritation in her voice. “What’s it going to take to get you to go away?”

  “Come on,” Tripp laughed. “After we got along so well with that assignment? I thought we were making progress.”

  “Progress?”

  When Tripp realized where Ashlyn’s mind was probably going, he quickly corrected her. “Yeah, to friendship? To you not hating me?”

  “I don’t hate you,” Ashlyn blurted out. She could have slapped herself on the forehead. It would have been better if he continued thinking she did.

  “You don’t,” he asked teasingly.

  “Maybe a little,” she said, unable to help smiling as she did. She sighed. She could not believe what was happening. “If you really want, it’s the sky blue.” She pointed to the small bucket of paint that was for the letters.

  Tripp smiled. Without saying another word, he went to the bucket, knowing that Ashlyn was carefully watching him, just waiting for him to make a mistake. After several minutes he had the large letter R completed. When she said nothing of the skill or quality, he continued on.

  They worked in silence. Ashlyn hadn’t put her earbuds back in, just in case Tripp did decide to say something to her. She was quite surprised that he was being rather normal, doing just as he acted like he intended, simply helping her complete the sign.

  Ashlyn was so focused on her details of the bear that she didn’t notice Tripp coming closer and closer as the lettering went on across the sign.

  Tripp didn’t want her to mess up, so he waited until she was dipping her brush into the paint before he seized on an opportunity that had crossed his mind since they first started.

  “You did not,” Ashlyn screamed as soon as Tripp’s brush grazed her cheek.

  He erupted into a fit of laughter to the point that he was doubled over and clutching his stomach. When he finally began to compose himself and look up to no doubt a livid expression on Ashlyn’s face, she shocked him further by swatting his forehead with her brush.

  “Hey!” Tripp wasn’t mad in the least; he just didn’t expect Ashlyn to play along. The only difference was, she didn’t stop her assault on him.

  Ashlyn dipped her brush back in the black paint and swung at Tripp again, this time hitting him across his forearm. He took a step back, still laughing, but now with his hands up in surrender. Ashlyn sliced her brush through the air once more, now nicking him ever so slightly at the neck, and then below his right eye.

  Tripp lunged at her from behind when she bent for more paint and wrapped her into a bearhug, making it impossible for her to move her arms. Surprisingly, she was laughing.

  “Let go,” Ashlyn squealed, jumping up and down.

  “Truce?”

  “You started it,” she laughed. Trying to break free from his arms was not going to happen. He was way too strong for her, no matter how much fight she had in her.

  Tripp spun Ashlyn around and their chests collided, all the while keeping his grip on her arms firm so that they remained at her side. He could feel her fit of laughter radiating through his body, and it felt unlike anything he could ever recall with her in his arms. Then suddenly it stopped.

  Ashlyn brought her eyes to meet Tripp’s, and that’s when their predicament clicked. Their faces were only inches from one another. She could feel his heavy breaths coming through the cool air, and she was certain that he could feel the same from her. She glanced down at their bodies pressed together, his arms around her, now loosening, as if he knew they were in dangerous territory as well.

  Alarms blared in Ashlyn’s head, more loudly than they had ever done before. She quickly stepped back, and when she did, Tripp’s arms easily fell from her.

  “Sorry about that,” Tripp apologized.

  He wasn’t sure what to say. The look on Ashlyn’s face showed sheer horror, and her beautiful blue eyes that stared up at his so sweetly moments ago, wouldn’t even look in his direction.

  “You just looked so serious,” he went on. “I thought you could use a little fun.”

  “I need to finish this,” Ashlyn grumbled. She wiped her cheek but did a poor job of removing the blue paint.

  Tripp knew it would be pushing his luck, but why not. “Ash?” Thankfully she turned to him. He took a step forward and lifted the bottom of his t-shirt. “Hold still,” he softly instructed as he brought his shirt up to her cheek.

  Ashlyn told herself to step back a thousand times in that moment. She just couldn’t. For starters, the small and shallow girly part in her could see most of his abdomen with that gesture, and he looked absolutely incredible, like a model for some expensive jeans that didn’t need a shirt. Secondly, the gesture was sweet and innocent. For a moment she thought he might be bold enough to kiss her. If that were the case, more than likely his face would have met her closed fist. The look on his face, however, was serious. He was really concentrating on removing the paint from her cheek, not even caring that he was covered in ten times as much.

  “There,” he said, pulling his shirt back in place. “All good.”

  What Ashlyn found to be incredibly unnerving, Tripp stepped to the side and went back to the letters, like nothing had happened. Maybe it was her, she told herself. Maybe he was simply being playful, and she and her own messed up mind had taken it to mean more, to be a moment between them, and she had to go and make it awkward.

  More time passed and Ashlyn made the final touches to the Raymere Grove Bears Baseball signage for the field.

  “Hopefully no other idiots mess it up,” Tripp spoke without thinking.

  “He was just upset,” Ashlyn huffed.

  Tripp shrugged. “Well, it was pretty immature, regardless.”

  Ashlyn let out a deep breath and spun to face him, her eyes flaring with annoyance. “He’s paying for it, okay?”

  Tripp hated the direction their conversation was going. He especially hated th
at he had inadvertently brought up her boyfriend, but now that he had, “Do you always make excuses for him?”

  Ashlyn sucked in a breath at that. Tripp didn’t know anything about her and Eric to go around making assumptions like that. “Just mind your own business,” was all she could come up with.

  He was frustrated, but now that he had already ruined it and pissed her off, why not go all the way? “Come on, Ash! He makes a mess, you clean it up, and I bet he doesn’t even care. I mean, he didn’t even care enough to send you something for Valentine’s! Did he even take you out?”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” She slammed the lids onto the buckets of paint and placed them into a box. “I was actually quite surprised that you didn’t throw that in my face yesterday. Guess you couldn’t hold it in much longer,” she spat. Deep inside along with the anger boiling out, his words really hurt her.

  Tripp couldn’t help but take in a deep breath and calm down. Though Ashlyn tried not to show it, he picked up on the sadness in her voice. “Look, I’m sorry. I never meant–”

  “Was it you,” Ashlyn found herself interrupting. The idea had come across her mind, but she couldn’t possibly see it being true.

  Tripp’s eyes narrowed, appearing to be deep in thought. “Was what me,” he slowly enunciated.

  Ashlyn stood after she placed the last container of paint in the box, and met his eyes, his legitimately confused honey colored eyes. “The flowers,” she hesitated, already feeling like she knew the answer, and feeling like an idiot for thinking that it could have ever been him.

  “No.” Tripp watched Ashlyn’s expressions and body language carefully. He couldn’t figure out what was going on in her head, but his answer appeared to fill her with relief, much to his disappointment. “Even though you seem to know very little about me, I believe that first day you had me pegged as cocky and overconfident. If I’m going to give a girl something, you should know, I’d at least take credit for it.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Ashlyn sighed, her eyes falling to the ground. That was her last idea of who could have sent them. She’d just resign herself to the fact that maybe she wasn’t meant to know. It was an incredibly sweet gesture and that’s all it was supposed to be.